


like riding a bike

by icarusinflight



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, gratuitous use of bicycle metaphors, what have I done?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 02:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16461464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight
Summary: He can’t remember the last time he kissed anyone (he can, he just doesn’t want to think about how long ago that was). But it’s like riding a bicycle, once learned never forgotten.





	like riding a bike

**Author's Note:**

> A little coda for the hookup between Luke and Ambrose (episode 2 i think?).  
> I had strong thoughts about Ambrose massaging his throat the next morning.
> 
> Let Ambrose have nice things 2018.
> 
> Unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own, I might clean this up tomorrow

Ambrose isn’t expecting it, but he thinks he handles it fairly well, all things considered.

He can’t remember the last time he kissed anyone (he can, he just doesn’t want to think about how long ago that was). But it’s like riding a bicycle, a skill learned once, and never forgotten.

Except he never actually learned to ride a bike. That’s a human skill, one he’d never thought to acquire.

His body remembers, even if his mind is lagging behind, struggling to catch up, to process what’s actually happening. His hands come up to grip at Luke’s sides, holding onto Luke when he practically leaps into his arms.

It’s everything he’s wanted for so long. Kissing is better than he remembers, Luke’s his mouth hot and wet on his own. It feels like being caught in a whirlwind, and he just goes with it, let’s his instinct and muscle memory take over. There’s a rush to it, all hot and heavy and so insistent. and Ambrose doesn’t know if that’s him or Luke, and he doesn’t _care_. All he wants is more, wants to feel Luke’s touch, his skin. _Fuck_ he _needs_ it now.

It feels like there’s a fog in his brain, creeping over him like the way it comes in at the cemetery, but it’s doing nothing to obscure the desire coursing through his veins.

His hands find the hem of Luke’s shirt, pushing the clothes, feeling the skin burning beneath his fingertips.

“Off, off, off,” he gasps, hands shoving at Luke’s clothes with an urgency he can’t even hope to hide. He wants this, he _needs_ this. Luke laughs at his fumbling, and Ambrose can’t find it in himself to be ashamed. It’s been so many years with nothing more than vintage magazines and jerk off sessions, so many years since he’s felt the warmth of another person beneath his fingers like this.

He needs to feel it all.

It’s a graceless fumble of bodies as he tries to get them unclothed. He’s probably getting in the way more than he’s helping. He’s all fingers and thumbs, and shirt buttons have never been so difficult, not in all the years he’s been alive.

It might actually be magic when they finally shed their clothes. Ambrose doesn’t waste any more time, pushing Luke down to the bed. He goes with a _“oof”_ , bouncing on the mattress as he falls. Ambrose needs a moment to takes it all in, it’s been so long since he’s had a man in his bed, and he can’t remember if he’s ever had one tantalising as Luke before. Luke just looks up at him, a smirk playing across his face, and he must know what he’s doing to Ambrose, must know the effect he’s having, looking up at him with hunger in his deep blue eyes. Ambrose imagines he looks the same, eyes raking over Luke and taking him in. Luke’s gorgeous, laid out on his bed, skin already glistening with sweat.

His eyes follow the lines of Luke’s body, eyes trailing down, down, until they draw naturally to his cock.

He needs to get his mouth on it. Immediately.

Kneeling on the bed he knee walks to between Luke’s legs, hands running across his thighs as he moves, feeling the muscles tensing as he strokes, and the tickle of soft hair.

He doesn’t waste too much time, he has a goal in mind after all, and he finally gets there, hand wrapping tight around Luke’s cock. There’s a sharp inhale above him, but he can’t look away now, not when Luke’s cock is so close he could just lean forward and taste it.

He does exactly that, tongue darting out to lick at the head, just a swipe, enough to get a taste. It’s sharp, salty and bitter and it tastes familiar yet not. Ambrose can’t get enough of it, ducking his head down to wrap his lips around Luke’s cock properly.

Luke’s hands fly to his head, coming to rest in his hair, though not tugging. He doesn’t mind a little tugging, doesn’t mind being pulled down onto a cock, but it’s been a while, and he thinks maybe that’s a conversation for next time.

If there is a next time.

He banishes the thought, he doesn’t want to think about that, not when he can focus the cock in front of him instead.

It’s a nice cock, and it feels so good, sitting heavy in his mouth. He tongues just beneath the head, tonguing where his foreskin might be, if American’s didn’t have such strange habits when it comes to their penises. That earns him another gasp, which only drives him to try harder, taking Luke’s penis deeper into his mouth.

He wants to impress Luke, wants to have him writhing, leave him wanting, to have him come racing back. He wants to be the best Luke’s ever had. With that thought in mind, he relaxes his throat, angling it just right, then slides his mouth down until he’s nosing at Luke’s hair.

It’s been a while, and it’s just the edge of uncomfortable. If anything, that only encourages him. It’s something he’s always enjoyed, the knowledge that he can do this, that he’ll push through the discomfort to give someone this, to hear the noises Luke is making above him. Luke’s shaking now, legs coming up and bumping against his sides as they tremble.

His head is spinning when he pulls off, gasping around Luke’s cock as he pulls back, but not off. His hands are firm on Luke’s hips, holding him down, keeping him from thrusting up and letting Ambrose control what he can have, what he’ll give him. He traces patterns with his thumbs, as his fingers hold tight, feeling the bones beneath the skin there. He hopes he leaves bruises, hopes he leaves a mark on Luke that will remain. He hopes he’ll get to see them in the morning, and hopefully again soon, if Luke comes back.

Luke’s breathes are coming louder and faster, even more so than his own, and he wastes no time diving back down, enveloping Luke’s cock with his mouth again. He swallows around Luke, before pulling back again, resting Luke’s cock on his tongue. Sealing his lips around Luke’s cock he hollows his cheeks, alternating between sucking and groaning, and it feels as if the vibrations are running through his body, leaving him hot in their wake.

“Fuck,” Luke gasps out. He sounds so broken, and it shoots straight to Ambrose’s cock, feels it twitch where he’s rubbing against the sheets. Luke tenses, muscles going tense beneath him, and that’s all the warning he gets before Luke’s coming, hot on Ambrose’s tongue.

He swallows it down, sucking lazily as he eases off his hold and lets Luke thrust out the aftershocks of his orgasm. When the fingers tense, finally pulling at his hair, Ambrose relents, pulling off Luke’s cock with a lewd pop.

He’s so hard it hurts, erection all the more insistent for being ignored. He stumbles forward, leaning over Luke on one arm as he strokes himself, no finesse at all, almost as if he is alone in his room with only magazine for company.

Those times never end like this though, coming in hot streaks against the still heaving stomach of a fit lad, watching as he blinks up, eyes still a little hazed over from his own orgasm. Ambrose strokes through his own orgasm, until it’s just on the edge of painful. He pulls his hand away, makes a halfhearted attempt to wipe it off on the sheet before he collapses, half on the bed and half on Luke, his body almost painfully hot.

“Fuck,” he croaks out, or tries to. His voice is a mess, and he feels a sense of satisfaction at that, a sign of a job well done.

“I’ll clean it in a moment,” Luke says. Ambrose couldn’t care less about the mess, part of him wants Luke wearing his come, wants him to stay marked up with it all night, and then some. There’s a primal part of him that wants Luke to keep a part of Ambrose on his body, as if that will compel Luke to come back to him.

 _Fuck._ One orgasm and he starts getting loopy.

“Just a moment,” Luke says again, and his voice isn’t sounding so great either, and Ambrose feels the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips where his face is buried into Luke’s neck.

Another sign of a job well done.

It’s just like riding a bike.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments and Kudos give me life  
> Find me at tumblr at [candybarrnerd](http://candybarrnerd.tumblr.com/)


End file.
